


Switching cities

by Fogfire



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fogfire/pseuds/Fogfire





	Switching cities

„Oh come on,please!“ Your cousin had tried everything to persuade you. And wheneverything else didn’t work, she pulled her last straw – she begged. „Please, please, please, please, please! With sugar on top? Pweeaasee?“ „Oh God, you’re so annoying. Fine. Fine, I will.“ „Oh my god, you are the best! You won’t regret it, I swear, because we both know you’re uncle Max favourite and you know everything about music and I don’t and I…“ „And you urgently need a tan and a summer flirt, I got it. But just because I’ve played the piano since I was three doesn’t mean I know how to sell instruments.“ „Max is going to teach you everything, trust me. Plus you can settle on selling the vinyls and CD’s at the beginning until you feel safe. But you will be fine, I swear. And I will finally see some sun. You don’t know how lucky you are, because the London summer is nothing, I tell you, nothing against Spain.“ You snort. „And because I’m the lucky one I have swap places with you, I got it. Who’s the favourite now?“ „You, always have been, always will.“

And that’s how it was settled, that you would spend the holidays in London, working in your uncles small but well known music shop while your cousin would tan at the spanish beach, flirting with boys. Oh well, you knew the beach like the back of your hand, nothing exciting going on there you could miss.

Three weeks into work you absolutely loved the job, the shop, the customers and of course, your products. Your uncle let you use any of the instrumens he owned – he knew you were careful and although you still failed at playing the guitar you already sold quite a few and wouldn’t call yourself the worst drummer anymore.

That even made up for all the rain.

\- - -

Three weeks and four days after your first day of work the bell over the front door chimed and your uncle looked up to the stranger walking in. „'ello, I would like to buy a guitar.“ „In the back, my niece will help you out.“ The stranger nodded and went through while your uncle went on talking to a regular customer, an elderly musics teacher.

You were sat near the piano, a clipboard on your lap, going through necessary but still quite boring paperwork. „Hi.“ You looked up and nearly choked on your gum. When your cousin asked you to swap cities, she didn’t tell you that her fathers shop had such well known customers.

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„H-hi…“ He smiled and scratched his bearded chin. „Am I right suggesting that you know me?“ You nod speechless.“ „Fan?“ You nod again. He snickers. „Well, I’m Zayn as you already know and who are you?“ You tell him your name and he nods, his eyes roaming around the room. „You probably know that I don’t play an instrument, so you might me wondering, why I’m here.“ „We also sell vinyls.“ „Really?“ You nod, again left speechless when you see his brown eyes light up. He just climbed the letter of your favorites with those sparkling eyes. „Oh, I will look at them later. But I need a present for Niall and I thought a guitar would be cool. You know a bit about them?“ You shrug. Putting your talents or knowledge out in the open wasn’t your thing. You tell him a bit about every guitar you have and after the first two you calm down a bit, telling you that this might be Zayn Malik but he’s still a customer in the first place.

Plus you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you would be the reason Niall would get a shitty present. Or Zayn would have to purchase the guitar from another store whose staff probably didn’t even like One Direction. That thought calms you down a little. You start to talk more, joke a bit and nearly suffer from a stroke when Zayn Malik, the Zayn Malik, laughs at one of your stupid puns.

You end up showing him nearly every instrument you have, even the triangle – which he claims he knows how to play – and the piano. He tries a few notes, fails and you try to hide a smirk. You’re so not going to show off, but he seems to see it in your face. „Don’t tell me you know how to play.“ „Maybe.“ „Show me.“ „Naah.“ „I’m going to walk out of this store if you don’t play a song for me.“ „Blackmailing is not nice.“ He smirks, eyes sparkling again and you give in. Fine. One song won’t hurt. „What do you wanna hear.“ „Don’t care.“ You start with some silly, senseless tunes and he laughs. The next idea comes from the place at the back of your brain where all your knowledge of One Direction, their songs and those five boys in general is stored and you start playing little things. Of course it sounds different on the piano than it sounds on the guitar but he notices right away, humming along.

 

„I think I made my choice. Care to show me the vinyls?“ „Sure.“ You lead him the way to the your uncles greatest pride and probably the part of the shop that makes the most money. The music collection. „There is even a One Direction album somewhere in between.“, you note and try to walk away when he stops you. „Why don’t you stay and tell me a bit about some bands I don’t know yet?“ It’s a wonder your mouth isn’t hanging open. Did he really just say that? He smirks. He has. And he has noticed your reaction.

„Okay, ehm, you… probably haven’t heard of this band yet…“, you pull out a small CD case with four older men on the cover, wearing some strange hiker outfit made of leather. „Have you?“ „No, actually not. But I’m pretty sure it’s good music.“ You listen to it on the little ‘try out’ booth your cousin fought for and come to a conclusion – the music not the best, but it’s fun none the less.

You start talking again, joking about some really weird covers, album titles and songs. He jokes along, asking questions, answering a few.

You’re even a bit sad, when he finally buys the beautiful dark chestnut acoustic guitar and even though he waits a moment at the counter, looking at you, you still don’t ask for a picture or an autograph. Yes, you would love to have one or even both. But it doesn’t feel right.

This afternoon, weirdly enough, it felt as if you two were friends. And friends don’t ask for autographs.

\- - -

To weeks later you are sorting the new CD’s that came yesterday when the doorbell rings. You don’t turn around because it has to be your uncle, he went to get his beloved blueberry muffins minutes ago. „Excuse me, is it possible that you sold Zayn Malik a guitar?“ This time, you don’t choke on a gum, no, you fall from your chair. Yes, this is the way you wan’t to meet the love of your life for the first time – fall on your knees (or back in your case) in front of them.

You look up from the floor to a sheepishly smiling Niall Horan and need a good minute to cover yourself, but still, you can only nod. His grin gets deeper. „Good, I already thought I recognised you, he told me your hair looked like chocolate, but I wasn’t totally sure.“ You blink. He didn’t say that, did he?

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He pushes his hands deeper into the pocket of his chinos. „So, yeah… Zayn told me about you. And he gave me the guitar. Sick, by the way. And he said that if I didn’t get my lazy ass up and ask you out, he would take the guitar back…. so yeah… what are you doing through lunch break?“

\- - -

One thing was clear – your cousin would never, ever again ask you to switch cities again.

(Next time you would be the one to beg.)


End file.
